


Boudin Noir

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [28]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Season/Series 02, soulmates if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: He hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. Edward, who was quite nocturnal for a human, had finally closed his eyes a few hours before dreaded daylight. The vampire was curled up beside him on the bed with his fingers still entangled in his pillowy hair. Oswald, being the sort of creature that he was, had veins full of ice and so he craved the warmth of the living— not unlike a snake coiling around a heating lamp.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	Boudin Noir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FantasiaGolwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaGolwyn/gifts).



> Finally finished! I wrote this for the Nymobblepot Haven discord exchange. Hope you enjoy it, FantasiaGolwyn!
> 
> Thank you connorluthorkent for being my beta! It made posting it less nerve-wracking. <3

_ "Madarat tolláról, embert barátjáról ismerni meg." _

_ “You’ll recognize the bird from its feathers, the man from his friends.” _

\- - -

Oswald had barely spoken a word to his rescuer. Instead he just spat and snarled at the man whenever he came close but, frustratingly, the brunette only found it endearing. He’d stated as much. Oswald certainly didn’t want to be kept as this human’s  _ pet _ , but the tall windows in the loft-style apartment prevented him from ever escaping during daylight. That and, of course, the sigils painted on the back of the door that scorched his hand anytime he tried to pry it open.

He could hear the man’s heartbeat echo through the room. He smelled of lemon solvent and eucalyptus oil, but he could not hide that lingering tinge of warmth and sweetness Oswald detected under that cologne, the blood that coursed through him and threatened to send Oswald into a frenzy.

Lucky for him, the tall glass of water named Edward Nygma was not without brains. Shortly after bringing the king into his home, he’d gifted him a snack— an unfortunate fellow named Leonard who committed the sin of working for that zealot, Theo Galavan. Oswald was about to tear into the brunette when he offered Leonard, bound and gagged.

Edward had watched him in rapt fascination as he pulled the man apart. ripping and tearing at him with claws he kept hidden and drinking him dry. Unfortunately, in his lust, most of it had spilled all over the floor and down the front of his borrowed nightshirt. His hunger hadn’t  _ quite _ been sated, but the meal at least kept him from losing his head and allowed Edward to live for the time being.

Each day, Edward would leave for work in the early afternoon and then return that night with a new victim for the vampire to devour. The first night was Leonard, of course. The next night was a store clerk named Peter. Then a bartender named Susan. Oswald hadn’t been particularly delighted with Edward’s choices, and it must have shown on his face because the following evening, Edward brought home a pair of _ hunters _ .

These two in particular had been a thorn in Oswald’s side ever since taking over the Underworld after his sire, Fish Mooney. His wards held up and he had plenty of security on hand, but Augustus and Thomas were crafty and had made it into the Falcone Mansion on far too many occasions. 

The pair had been hired by Galavan in his attempt to purge Gotham of her monsters. Oswald, being one of the oldest among the hierarchy, had been a prime target for the leader of the Order of Saint Dumas. Because, if Galavan could take down the King of Gotham, then all of the others would tremble beneath his heel… or so he believed.

“I found them rummaging through your mansion and decided to bring them here,” Edward said.

“You were in my home?” Oswald turned to him, glaring. He had enough of his strength returned to him that he could sense himself broiling, his eyes glowing that fierce purple they often did when he was angry.

Edward held up a hand in a placating gesture, “I meant no disrespect. I was simply collecting some of your things while you were here recovering.”

Oswald stood there baffled. He had been in his makeshift bedroom sequestered in the slightly damp and musky closet and had only just noticed the large suitcase on Edward’s bed. It was filled with some of Oswald’s casual wear as well as several of his favorite suits, some jewelry, and a few records. Edward certainly was one of the more peculiar humans he’d come across.

“Do you have any idea what that  _ thing _ is?” the blonde hunter, Augustus, thrashed against his bindings.

Not caring about the harsh words of an insignificant mortal, Oswald’s attention had been focused on the items in the suitcase until he heard a firm  _ slap _ . When he turned, Edward’s hand was shaking and blood trickled from the crack on the blonde’s lip.

“Aren’t you one of us?!” the other hunter, Thomas, cried, “Why did you bring us here to be slaughtered?”

It had occurred to Oswald that his rescuer was indeed another hunter, but his actions didn’t convey that he had any real malintent towards his vampire captive. He seemed to genuinely care for him and wanted him to be well again. If he  _ was _ a hunter, he was either disillusioned by the Hunter’s Guild or a fool.

“If he has some sort of hold on you, we can help you,” Augustus told him, his voice full of righteous concern, “Fight it. Let us go.”

“Mr. Nygma is doing this all on his own, I’m afraid,” Oswald’s voice poured out and lingered like fog in the room. The effect of his voice alone caused their heartbeats to quicken which only made Oswald more excited.

“I’m not a hunter,” Edward told them. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing several sigils and occult symbols tattooed on his flesh. Oswald recognized most of them. The rest seemed to be of Edward’s own creation. He smiled, “I’m just well educated.”

“You’re a witch?” Thomas gawked.

Edward made a face, “That’s closer to the truth, but no.”

“He’s going to eat you. You know that, right?” Augustus laughed.

“Perhaps,” Edward turned to glance at the vampire still watching from the bed, “Perhaps not.”

“You’re crazy!” Thomas screamed.

Oswald, offended on Edward’s behalf, darted across the room and held the man by the throat. It had been in a blink and so the hunter hadn’t been able to catch a breath before he was in the vampire’s grasp.

“No!” Augustus yelled.

“He means a lot to you,” Oswald said, tightening his grip and delicately sliding a claw along the man’s jugular. He leaned in and smelled the man slowly losing consciousness, “You’re lovers.”

“Please…” Augustus shook his head, “I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t…” Thomas wheezed despite his eyes rolling back. Oswald let go of him long enough for him to choke and gasp before he grabbed a handful of the man’s hair, jerking him back and exposing his throat.

_ “Anything, _ you say?” Oswald purred, licking a long stripe up the hunter’s neck, “Mr. Nygma has kept me well fed, I really only need one of you.”

“Take me!” the blonde squirmed, “Let Tom go.”

“Both of you are guilty of inconveniencing me since your arrival in Gotham. Why should I choose you over him?”

“Please,” he pleaded, tears falling freely from his eyes. “I love him. Just let him go.”

“Very well,” Oswald took a step back. He watched as the two hunters argued amongst themselves and listened to Tom's desperate attempts to have his lover reconsider. After a moment of watching their spat, he turned to Edward.

“You may let them go.”

“Excuse me?” Edward blinked.

“Cut their bindings and let them both go,” he repeated.

“Why?” Augustus asked.

“You see me as nothing but a monster,” Oswald frowned, “And I am. But that is not all that I am.”

Edward watched them from the window as they made their escape. They embraced one another on the street below and Edward couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy from watching them.

“I don’t understand,” he frowned, “Why let them go?”

“I lost my lover when I was young,” Oswald shrugged, “Perhaps I just have a soft spot.”

“That’s… incredibly foolish of you to reveal a weakness like that,” he adjusted his glasses.

“And how incredibly foolish of  _ you _ to point that out when I can just tear your head from your shoulders.”

“But they’re just going to come back!” Edward ignored the threat.

“Maybe,” Oswald nodded, “But now they are indebted to me.”

The human nodded his head and processed the vampire’s words. His Adam’s apple bobbed with an audible gulp and his hand twitched at his side.

“Does this mean you’re going to feed on me instead?” Edward asked. He attempted to hide his fear, but the shine of sweat on his brow and his quickening heartbeat gave him away. Oswald steadily made his way towards the man. As he got closer, he could see the bright purple glow of his eyes reflected off of the man’s glasses.

“Would you fight me if I did?” he asked, teeth bared and at the ready.

Edward inhaled and then took a step closer, looking down at the monster threatening to eat him, “No.”

“You are a strange man, Mr. Nygma,” Oswald tapped a claw at the end of his nose, causing the mortal to flinch, before twining his fingers in his wavy brown hair.

“Ed,” he swallowed and leaned into the touch, “You can just call me Ed.”

“Ed,” the vampire smiled, “I think I will keep you around for a moment longer.”

* * *

It was not often that Oswald dreamed. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain he’d experienced anything other than nightmares since being turned all those decades ago. 

He hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. Edward, who was quite nocturnal for a human, had finally closed his eyes a few hours before dreaded daylight. The vampire was curled up beside him on the bed with his fingers still entangled in his pillowy hair. Oswald, being the sort of creature that he was, had veins full of ice and so he craved the warmth of the living— not unlike a snake coiling around a heating lamp.

Something about being wrapped around Edward reminded him of home. Not his lofty mansion he’d inherited from Don Falcone nor the estate on the outskirts of town owned by the Van Dahls, but the quiet little town of Cinkota just outside of Budapest. 

He had a lover then, he could still make out his features. His brown hair and eyes, his tall, lanky stature, the poetics of his words. He was a musician, a composer. He often wrote Oswald songs to declare his love and admiration. But, as Fate would have it, pneumonia took him in the winter of 1912 just a few months before Oswald himself had met with his own terrible end.

Edward hitched a breath in his sleep, startling Oswald awake.

"You shouldn't stay here," Edward said, snuggling up to him absentmindedly. Intimacy, for whatever reason, came naturally to the two of them.

"Just a moment longer," Oswald grumbled.

Edward peered over his shoulder and squinted his eyes at the clock on his nightstand, "The sun will come out soon."

"You should just find a way to block out those awful windows," he cuddled closer, his pointed nose brushing against the other man’s temple, "This is nice. Much cozier than my cot in that cramped closet of yours."

“It’s just for a few more days,” Edward chuckled, “By then you’ll be fully recovered and Theo Galavan will be in a cell at Blackgate.”

Oswald hissed at the mention of Galavan’s name, causing the brunette to shiver. He was right, however. Oswald had attempted to take the man down but had been caught unawares. A silver bullet lodged in his clavicle left him weak and dying in the woods. By the time Edward stumbled upon him, he could barely move. He didn’t even have the energy to protest when the man hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him to the safety of his car and up the steps towards his apartment.

“So you mean to keep me here as a prisoner so I can hide from Galavan?”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Ed frowned.

“But I’m not permitted to leave?” he scowled, “You have sigils blocking your only door. Sounds an awful lot like I am a prisoner.”

“The windows aren’t locked, Oswald,” he gestured to the room, “I advise against it but, you can leave at any time in the night if you really want to. The door is rigged up to keep other monsters  _ out. _ That’s all.”

Oswald huffed, twisting in on himself and tucking his head beneath the other man’s chin. If he could still blush, he would. He felt like such a child around Ed. Something about him brought out his boyishness and he wasn’t yet certain if he enjoyed it or not.

He knew the windows were open. He’d even stepped out onto the ledge and inhaled the night air once when Edward was working a later shift than normal. Edward was right that he wasn’t at full strength yet, but he could have easily swooped down and made it back home without much issue. It would be easier to just go back to his mansion surrounded by his guards and lackeys. Later that night, he’d considered it.

Staring out at the rather impressive view from Edward’s apartment, he allowed himself to mull over the idea. Beyond the tall buildings and rows of warehouses was the shore, a lonely pier, and bridges that faded off into the distance with their flickering lights that danced on the dark blue water. They were within walking distance of the GCPD, the proximity likely due to the nature of Edward’s work as a forensic scientist.

Ed, the poor fool, explained to Oswald how an unusual case came into the man’s lab and he had unfortunately uncovered a den of monsters. Curiosity gripped him— clawing at the back of his mind— and he discovered too late that once you read from a book, you can never unlearn it. Forbidden knowledge was not a path to tread lightly but Edward had seen the ledge and happily dove over the side. Now, here he was, protective sigils inked onto his flesh and a Vampire King casually living in his closet.

Oswald heard the man’s keys jangle in the lock. He took one last look at Gotham’s glittering horizon before turning back towards the familiar warmth of the apartment. His presence seemed to startle the mortal.

“You’re still here?” Ed dropped his keys and badge on the nightstand.

“Did you  _ want _ me to leave?” Oswald crossed his arms, his feathers ruffled in offense.

“No,” he answered, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Well, my dearest Edward, I hate to tell you this but you interest me.”

“I do?” his eyes sparkled.

“If you didn’t, I wouldn’t still be here. Would I?”

“I suppose not,” he blushed, perching himself on the edge of the bed, “I find you interesting too.”

“Oh?” the vampire smirked, “What about me is so interesting?”

“I read your file at the GCPD,” Ed admitted, “Even before I knew what you were. I was a fan. You were… inspiring.”

“Inspiring?” he scoffed, “Me?”   
  
“Well…  _ yeah,”  _ Ed chuckled, “Look at me. I’m nobody. I came from nothing and I’m  _ still _ nothing. You dug yourself out of years of being the little guy and ended up the King of Gotham. I’d say that’s pretty inspiring.”

“Don’t insult me,” he rolled his eyes, “You are  _ not _ nothing. I wouldn’t bother to be your friend if you were.”

"We're... friends?"

The vampire could feel himself losing his temper. The King of Gotham was rather well known for his outbursts and the irritation he felt at Edward being too daft to accept his compliment was priming him for a tantrum. But, because Oswald did genuinely consider this strange mortal a friend, he hoped he could dodge that line of fire.

“S-Sorry,” Ed backpedaled, “I just meant that I hope to be able to recognize that about myself. In the future. Be more…” he waved his arms as he searched for the word, “Confident.”

“You seem fairly confident to me,” Oswald grumbled.

“I’m good at pretending,” he said, his mouth pinched tightly. There was a sadness in his eyes that Oswald wanted to wipe clean.

“I suppose I understand what you mean,” Oswald confessed as he sat down on the bed beside him, “When I was still mortal, I was a meek little thing.”   
  
“That’s almost hard to imagine,” Ed chuckled, “What was your life like back then?”

“You want to know more about the human I used to be?”

“I’m just curious,” he said, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s fine. It’s just that no one has ever asked before,” Oswald pursed his lips and fiddled with a loose thread on the quilt. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with the basics. How long ago were you born?” he asked, shifting on the bed and smiling. His eyes sparkled with an adoration Oswald wasn’t sure what to do with.

“Oh… about a hundred and thirty years ago. Give or take.”

Edward’s eyes widened and his jaw drooped slightly.

“What?” Oswald smirked, “You know what I am.”

“I heard you were one of the oldest vampires in Gotham.”

“Well, by vampiric standards, I’m fairly young,” he explained, “For instance, Don Falcone was born in the seventeenth century.”

“Fascinating,” he smiled widely, “Was he the one who turned you?”

“No,” Oswald frowned, “My sire was Fish Mooney.”

“I get the feeling there’s a story behind that,” Ed frowned, unsure if it was polite to say out loud.

“There is,” he sighed and then stared at his human who looked a bit like an eager puppy awaiting a treat, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please,” he bounced slightly, the mattress springs chirping.

“Alright then,” he smiled, “What do you know of the Vampire of Cinkota?”

Edward pondered for a moment, sifting through his memory bank, “I studied him once when researching serial killers and their methods,” Ed explained, “His name was Béla Kiss. The exact number is unknown, but he was suspected to have murdered around thirty or so people during his spree.”

“Béla was a charismatic man. Handsome. Blonde. All of the women in our village swooned when he would walk by… my mother included,” he made a face of vague disgust before continuing, “He married a woman named Mária and, from the outside looking in, they appeared happy.”

“But Mária took a lover,” Ed added, “Kiss was called a vampire in the papers because he would drain his victims of their blood before pickling their remains in methanol. Mária and her lover were found in a metal barrel that was recovered on his property when he disappeared.”

“Poor Bikari...” Oswald shook his head, “He was an artist. Sweet. A bit timid. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t laid eyes on him once or twice.”

Edward sat there for a moment, chewing on his lip as he thought. Suddenly, his eyes widened as the details fell into place, “Mária…as in Maria Mooney?”

“The very same.”

“I never knew your connection went back that far. She and Don Falcone always seemed like hallmarks of Gotham, I just assumed they had always been here.”

“I was there alongside them, though you wouldn’t have noticed,” Oswald said, “I worked from the shadows to ensure their success... and my own, eventually.”

“All that lurking primed you for overthrowing them and taking it for yourself,” Edward grinned, “And what a fine King you make.”

Oswald grinned at the compliment. The file that Edward made reference to only documented the more human side of his exploits. On record, he was a mobster in his early thirties who bit off more than he could chew. Most mortals only knew of his subtle manipulations and how he backstabbed those in powers to weasel his way up through the Underworld. Which, in many ways he did, but the complicated politics of monsters that he also navigated was more impressive a feat. He proved himself worthy of that throne and just crazy enough to rule a city like Gotham that no other monster contested it. Edward, with his more informed knowledge of what happened behind closed doors, recognized that.

“Béla left on a business trip to Budapest. When he returned, he was… different. He was aggressive. Reclusive.”

“He became a vampire while he was away?” Ed asked.

“Rumor has it that he went  _ looking _ for trouble,” Oswald told him, “He was eccentric. He delved into various occult practices, studied astrology, palmistry. He was a successful tinsmith and businessman, but he wanted more out of his life. But what he found in Budapest wasn’t all that he expected it to be.”

“I take it he was too weak-willed to handle being a creature of the night, as it were,” Ed said, “It drove him insane.”

“He became possessive of Fish and turned her in the hopes that she would remain tethered to him forever,” he explained, “People assumed the body they found was hers, but Fish had escaped to Budapest where she was discovered by Don Falcone. He took her under his wing, treated her like he’d sired her himself.”

“And what of Béla?”

“Fish and Falcone kept a close eye on him. But, eventually, he set his sights on my mother,” he frowned, “She was a widow. Lonely and lovestruck. The moment he spoke to her…” he sniffled, wiping moisture from his eye, “I wasn’t there to protect her. I was nursing my own heartache at an alehouse. By the time I’d arrived, we were too late.”

“He killed her?”

“Worse,” he smiled sadly. “He turned her.”

Ed opened his mouth to say something, but quickly clapped it closed again so Oswald could continue recounting his tale.

“Fish tried to save her, but the process had already begun and I had to hold my mother in my arms for  _ hours _ while she died and changed,” the memory of it all still danced vividly in his mind— like a moment in time preserved in amber. “Fish, in a decision she felt was mercy at the time, turned me so that my mother and I wouldn’t be separated.”

“Do you regret letting her?” Ed asked, his expression open and pensive.

“In hindsight, I think I would have been happier if she had let me die. At least then I would be reunited with…”

“With who?”

_ Farkas. _

“Doesn’t matter,” Oswald waved the question aside,  _ “None _ of that matters anymore. Especially now.”

“Well…” Edward took Oswald’s hand into his own. “I, for one, am happy to have the opportunity to know you.”

Oswald searched his face. If this absurd man had been anyone else, Oswald would have ripped them apart by now for his incredulous behavior. But something buried deep, like that memory in amber, tugged at his reins.

“Can you still eat other things?” Edward asked suddenly, “Like… normal food?”

Oswald huffed at the interruption to their moment, mildly amused and charmed. “I can, but I get no real satisfaction from it. Unless it’s a rather  _ bloodied _ steak.”

“You’re like a cat.”

“I’m… sorry?” Oswald tilted his head, his eyebrows pulled up to his hairline.

“Cats require taurine in their diets in order to maintain their brain health, nerves, and immune system. Taurine is found in meat, but the process of cooking it actually destroys the amino acids. So raw meat is actually best for their carnivorous diet.”

“I see,” Oswald smirked. He was developing quite the fondness for this human’s endearing quirks. He was odd but there was a pleasantness to him. They were never caught in a dull moment when Ed was spouting off random facts or indulging in wordplay.

“I’d like to cook for you,” Ed said.

“Well, I’ll have to warn you that I am not easily impressed with human meals. It’s rare I eat anything unless I’m bored.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge then,” he grinned.

The following evening arrived and Edward did not disappoint. He instructed Oswald to stay in his makeshift bedroom and rest for a while longer while Edward prepared their meal. Oswald could smell the culmination of spices and seared meat and he had to admit that it did make his mouth water. The extra moment alone also gave him time to collect his thoughts...

The name “Farkas” had not crossed his mind in decades. His love had been so cruelly taken from him long ago and Oswald truly believed that he could never love like that again. He had lovers over the years, certainly. Pretty little things to whet his appetites on lonely nights that he could eat when he grew bored of them. But Edward was different. Alarmingly different.

For all of Edward’s talk of being a nobody, he was steadily worming his way into Oswald’s heart. He didn’t shy away from the Vampire King nor did he shield his true self from view. He allowed Oswald to see a side of him that was vulnerable. A side that trusted the monster. And he allowed Oswald the same courtesy.

A gentle knock came at the closet door, signaling that he could finally stretch his legs and breathe in some fresh air. He took in the sight and chuckled lightly at how it all very much looked like a date.

Neon green spilled in through the windows and contrasted with the warm glow from the candlelight at the small dining room table. At the center was a thin vase with a single lavender-colored calla lily, it’s meaning erring close enough to a declaration of affection that it made Oswald prickle in nervousness. Their place settings were a combination of expensive ceramic contrasted with some chemistry glassware Edward had repurposed. It was very…  _ them. _

“Tada!” Ed presented their food, “Boudin noir poêlé aux pommes.”

“Black pudding and apples,” Oswald smiled, allowing Edward to pull out his chair for him, “Sounds divine.”

Edward watched him as he took the first bite, swallowing in tandem and attempting to read his expressions. Oswald tried to remain neutral, just to play with him a bit longer, but a soft moan fell from his lips. Edward smiled at his masterful accomplishment and dug into his own meal.

“Are you as picky about wine as you are food?” Ed asked.

“I’m actually quite partial to wine,” Oswald admitted, savoring another bite of the iron-rich delicacy in front of him.

“Me too,” Ed gestured to the glass decanter beside them. Edward had made certain to allow their wine to breathe prior to serving their meal. “The chemistry interested me. I tend to treat wine pairings a bit like a puzzle to solve.”

“And how does this particular wine pair with our boudin noir this evening?”

“Crozes-Hermitage Blanc,” he lifted the decanter of the white wine and poured it into each of their glasses, “Made from Marsanne grapes in Northern Rhône. This particular vintage is very mineral-rich which plays with the pudding and the brightness and fruitiness of the other notes complement the apples.”

“I have yet to not be impressed by you,” Oswald swirled the wine in his glass and tasted it. The flavors danced around on his tongue. He let them linger there for a moment longer, noting the evolution, “It’s almost floral. Honeysuckle?”

“You’re quite perceptive.”

“Comes with the Curse. A silver lining, I suppose,” he shrugged, “This is all excellent, Edward.”

“I’m glad you let me cook for you. I enjoy it, but I don’t get to do it often.”

“You’re quite an  _ enigma,”  _ Oswald leaned back in his chair and smirked over the rim of his wine glass. He delighted in the blush that filled Edward’s cheeks. He was looking more and more like a snack— in more ways than one. “A man of your intellect and skill possessing a face like yours has surely had a lover or two. Is there a reason for the solitude?”

Edward frowned and cleared his throat, “For some men love is a source of strength but, for us, it will always be our most crippling weakness.”

“Who are you trying to fool, Ed?” he groaned.

“You don’t agree that we’re better off unencumbered?” Edward rested his elbows on the table. Oswald would have found it rude had he not looked so delightfully predatory. There was a glint of mischievousness in the brunette’s eyes that Oswald could not help but fall for.

“If you are expecting me to impart wisdom, I have none to offer,” Oswald said, his palms outstretched to show the emptiness of his hands. “You pretend to be a man of cold logic, but you’re just as emotionally driven as anyone.”

“What about you then?” Edward narrowed his gaze, his fork stabbing the air in an accusing gesture, “Why are you alone?”

He frowned at that. It wasn’t that he  _ meant _ to be alone, although he really only had himself to blame for it. Fish and Falcone had been family up until the point that they weren’t. It was common practice among monsters to pick up the mantle of your predecessors, even if that meant by force. The Family had assumed that, given how close Oswald was to his Sire and Don Falcone, that he would never betray them. But his coldhearted need for power and damned selfishness won out in the end.

Eventually, all he had was his mother. She had no such desires to ever hold power and was content to live amongst the haunted, cobweb ridden hallways of the Van Dahl estate. But she too was inevitably plucked from his grasp.

"My mother used to tell me that life only gives us one true love. When we find it, we have to run to it or it would be lost forever," he smiled sadly, "But that's really not true. It's not always forever."

"It's not?"

"My father died when I was young," he explained, "My mother mourned him for years, even more so after she was turned. When we came to Gotham, she met a man named Elijah who she believed was the reincarnation of my late father."

"Was he?" Ed asked.

"Who is to say?" Oswald shrugged, "She believed he was. That's what mattered. In the end, she was happy."

“And what about you?” Edward asked, his voice unsure as he broached the subject,    
“Did you believe he was your father?”

"He took me in as his own and he was certainly familiar. Something about him… It's like you could sense it. And he knew things about us that no human born in this time should have known. So it's possible."

His mother had refused to turn Elijah and instead allowed him to grow old with her as a constant fixture beside him. When he died, they buried him on the property and she strode through the halls in her gown— looking more and more like a ghost with each passing year.   
  
At first, Oswald found it sad how she would sing to herself and speak to the antiques as if Elijah had never left them. But it hadn’t been that dissimilar to how Oswald felt when Farkas died. At least in his mother’s case, she was content. But the thought that Farkas could return to him one day left his mind scattered and wanting. Though, given his pursuits as of late, he didn’t think he deserved such a miracle.

"Fascinating,” Edward sipped his wine, “It’s almost hard to believe. The idea of living one life and having it carry over into the next… What purpose does that serve in the grand scheme of things?”

“I doubt there really is some  _ grand scheme,”  _ Oswald huffed. If there was some overarching plot dictating his life, he rejected it. He didn’t want to accept that the people he loved had been torn from him for some  _ purpose.  _

“You don’t believe in Fate?”

“Do you?” Oswald glared.

“I think that perhaps there was some reason I went to those woods that night,” Edward licked his lips and fiddled with his glasses..

“I assumed it was to bury a body,” Oswald quirked an eyebrow, “Perhaps we should thank your Ms. Kringle for dying so that we could be brought together.”

“As morbid as that sounds, I suppose so.”

Edward and Oswald were quite the odd pair. They were both terrible people who had a habit of harming those around them and, in many ways, it made them perfect for each other. 

Edward finished up the last of the dishes while Oswald lazed about on the sofa having his fill of another bottle of wine. A red this time. Dolcetto. The black cherry and licorice played on his tongue and left him wanting dessert.

“As delicious as your cooking was, I’m looking forward to the next neck I can bite into,” he swirled the red wine in his glass, watching as it clung to the side, “I suppose this will have to tide me over in the meantime.

“You’re still hungry?” Edward chuckled in amusement as he leaned against the kitchen island.

“Well, I  _ did _ say that mortal food didn’t provide much for me, didn’t I?”

“It’s late,” he flushed, his eyes lingering on the vampire’s mouth and darting across the room towards the bed and back again.

The sudden rush of blood in the air filled Oswald’s senses and made his mouth water all over again. If he had to compare it to something, he would say that Edward smelled a bit like the air right before lightning strikes. The vampire set the wine glass aside, rose to his feet, and walked towards his friend. His deliberate footsteps suddenly louder than any of the other sounds around them. Louder than the fan. Louder than Ed’s pounding heart.

“You can always feed on me... if that’s what you want,” Edward gulped.

Oswald trailed a clawed finger up the side of his neck, freezing him in place and making the mortal shiver, “I get the distinct impression that is what  _ you  _ want.”

“Maybe a little?” he smirked.

“Very well,” he rolled up his sleeves, “Lay on your bed.”

He does as he’s told, bouncing a bit as he does. The enthusiastic pounding behind his ribcage was a little more than distracting but Oswald was also excited— both because he was hungry and also because Edward was so willing to share it with him.

He pressed the flat of his hand against Edward’s chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress springs squeaked and groaned as the vampire crawled over his dessert and straddled his waist.

“Do you like this shirt of yours?” Oswald asked, toying with one of the plastic green buttons.

“Not particularly,” Ed shrugged, his voice heady and winded.

“Good. Because it will get ruined.”

Oswald leaned in, kissing Edward under the jaw. The sudden press of his mouth against Edward’s skin caused the mortal to gasp. Oswald trailed kisses towards his neck and listened as Ed struggled to remain composed. The mortal held his breath. Oswald’s teeth hovered over his pulse point, savoring Edward’s fear. It was palpable. Delicious. He kissed his shoulder and down his arm. Finally, he kissed Ed’s palm to expose his wrist.

“It will be easier to hide the bite mark here than it will be at your throat,” the vampire explained.

“Alright…” Ed closed his eyes, “I’m ready when you are.”

His skin was hot to the touch and Oswald felt like he was on fire. Pressing his lips to Ed’s skin, he tongued at the warmth until he found the spot he was looking for. Ed’s rapid pulse sent a jolt down Oswald’s spine, forcing him to reel himself back so he wouldn’t get carried away. He bit down quickly and smirked at the delightful little  _ “Ah!” _ from the man pinned beneath him. Oswald pulled back and watched as a bright red trail of blood rolled down Ed’s arm, soaking into the sleeve of his shirt and staining the cotton fabric. It was pretty against his skin. The vampire then licked a long stripe up his arm and secured his lips over the bite.

Like fine wine, blood had all sorts of distinctive tastes. Edward, much like his scent, left Oswald vaguely euphoric. He tasted of stone fruits. Anise. Mint. It transported him back home to Cinkota. To a memory of an early morning with Farkas singing to him as his eyes fluttered open. Dust danced in the beam sunlight from the tiny window of their lodging. His long dead lover’s brown eyes full of amber and woodsmoke, glistening with devotion as they gazed at him.

Oswald sees those same eyes looking up at him now. He lets go, licking his lips, and checking Edward’s pulse. It’s faint. Edward, in spite of his bleary state, reached out towards his friend. Oswald clicked his tongue, obliging the silent request, and curled up on the bed beside him.

“Are you nauseous?” Oswald asked, noting how Edward scrunched his face from discomfort.

“A little…” he panted.

Shimmying further down the bed, Oswald placed his cold face against Edward’s chest in the hopes that it would soothe him. After a few haggard moments, Edward’s breathing returned to normal. As he continued to come back from the high of being drained so thoroughly, he started absentmindedly playing with his friend’s feathery hair. Oswald gazed up at him, lost in thought and blood drunk.

“You’re thinking,” Ed tapped him on the forehead.

“We share that in common,” he chuckled, “We’re always thinking.”

“About anything in particular?” Ed asked.

“Just… you,” Oswald confessed.

“What about me?” Edward smiled, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of the vampire’s mouth with his finger and sneaking a taste for himself.

“In all of my years, I have never met a mortal so…”

“Weird?” Ed’s expression fell, “Annoying?”

“Accepting,” he answered.

“Oh.”

“...I would almost say that you loved me,” he whispered against Ed’s skin.

“Maybe I do,” Ed ran the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone, his gaze lingering on his eyes and occasionally flickering down to his mouth.

“I think it is more likely that you love the concept,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “You are in love with the idea of power and what I can provide.”

“That’s not true,” Ed sat up, his expression serious.

“It isn’t?” Oswald scoffed. He’d heard it all before, surely Edward was no different than the others. Even if he was rather exceptional and Oswald had a fondness for him.

“Oswald,” Ed leaned forward, his palm on Oswald’s cheek. He was still lightheaded and anemic, “I look at you and I don’t see a monster. I just see you.” 

“You don’t know me, Edward.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I feel like I’ve always known you?” Ed said, shyly and in a tone that conveyed he almost didn’t believe it himself.

“I would call you a romantic,” he grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his mouth and delighting in how it seemed to jumpstart the mortal’s heart, “But I like it.”

* * *

Once again, Oswald found himself staring out at the horizon.

“He could be  _ anywhere,” _ he growled at the night air. He could feel his face contort in his rage and he was grateful Edward was still at work. For all of his poetics, the human would likely cower and run away if he ever saw Oswald truly angry.

Gabriel had finally tracked Oswald down and had been the one to deliver the news. The leader of the Order of Saint Dumas was more cunning and more resourceful than the Vampire King had given him credit for. It didn’t help that his misdeeds were not spoken about above board or even outside of the domain of monsters. As far as the ignorant humans were aware, his crimes could easily be dismissed and all he had to do was pay his way out of prison. But Oswald knew better.

That fanatical bastard had murdered his mother. Her more timid nature and her connection to Oswald made her a prime target for the Order of Saint Dumas and Oswald’s pride had been their undoing. The man had evaded imprisonment and that at least meant Oswald could enjoy torturing him to death, but he remained elusive. Oswald’s best men returned to him as a pile of ashes and the Order of Saint Dumas was creeping ever closer to the boundaries of his home.

The metal door slid open, pulling Oswald’s attention to Edward as he entered.

“You’re late this evening,” Oswald sipped his wine by the open window.

“Yes… um…” Ed shifted on his feet, nervous and skittish.

Oswald walked towards him and lightly caressed his cheek. He breathed him in— tasting saltwater and gunpowder. He brushed aside a stray hair from Ed’s forehead and grazed his finger across the remnants of blood caked on his brow. It wasn’t his. Oswald frowned. 

He could confront the man about the nature of his tardiness but he instead wanted to hear what sort of excuse he would give. He held his face in his hands and waited.

“I had to stay late,” Ed explained, “Just a few things I had to take care of at the lab.”

His heartbeat betrayed him. That and the clear signs he’d been in some sort of struggle. Impatient, Oswald grabbed the man’s jaw. His eyes flashed around his uncharacteristically dirtied face.

“Did someone hurt you?” he growled.

“No,” Ed smirked a devilish sort of smirk. His heart was still racing. Ed held Oswald’s hand and brought his knuckles to his lips, kissing them reverently.

“I don’t like secrets,” Oswald glared.

“You’ll like this one,” he dared to pull Oswald close, their lips atoms apart and ghosting against each uttered word, “I promise.”

Oswald quirked an eyebrow. Trust was very hard to find in Gotham, and he wasn’t willing to give this mortal that honor just yet. At least not fully.

“Did you bring dinner?” he quickly changed the subject.

“Sorry,” Ed frowned, “I got caught up in what I was doing.” 

He sat on the bed, removed his soiled sweater vest, and loosened his tie. Oswald, understanding what he was offering, clicked his tongue. He stood in front of him and carded his fingers through the man’s hair. Ed hummed, his heartbeat thrumming in a calm and content rhythm. Oswald tightened his grasp and tugged at his hair to expose the side of his neck. Ed gasped at the sudden movement but remained poised.

Oswald leaned in, the heat from his breath caused Ed’s skin to ripple, and he planted a kiss at his pulse point.

“You’re still weak from yesterday,” he said.

“I’m okay,” Ed looked up at him with an expression of confidence, “I can handle one more day.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, “You enjoy this.”

Edward blushed, “I do.”

Oswald kissed him on the crown of his head, “Another time, dearest.”

“You have to eat eventually,” Ed frowned.

“I can go one night without a meal,” he scoffed, “I’m not a ghoul.”

“But you’re still getting your strength back. Solid meals help with your healing process.”

“What do you suggest we do then?”

Ed shifted on the bed, his eyes starry and his fingers drumming on his knees like a child awaiting a present, “Could you… show me how you hunt?”

“You mean go outside?” Oswald smirked, “Aren’t we still worried about Galavan and his lackeys?”

“You don’t have to worry about Galavan.”

“Do you know something that I don’t?” he crossed his arms.

“What I mean is that Galavan is probably busy dealing with getting his army in order,” he cleared his throat, “Some of the hunters in the Order decided to go against him after that mess with Bruce Wayne. So he’s a little preoccupied.”

“Hmm… I suppose you’re right,” he tongued the inside of his cheek.

“Of course I’m right,” he beamed and then poked the end of Oswald’s nose with his finger, “Come on. Let’s get some grub.”

It didn’t take long for them to find a victim. Oswald was used to these alleyways and the sorts of establishments that contained a decent meal or two, treating the buildings a bit like cans of sardines he could pry open and indulge. Edward kept to himself as he watched his friend glide through a crowd near one of the clubs. 

A man scurried out of the bar, not terribly drunk and looking a bit out of his element. Edward could see a lot of himself in the younger man. He was likely college age, dark hair, his clothes cleanly pressed and making him seem out of place in a club setting. He was probably invited out to a party and was ducking away while his friends were distracted. Now, he was food.

Oswald peered up at him from the edge of the alleyway, his eyes a vibrant purple. His victim’s expression softened like he was dreaming, his pupils blown wide and eyes half-lidded. Oswald curled his finger, gesturing for the man to follow into the dark.

“Take off your scarf,” Oswald told him, it echoed eerily off of the cobblestone.

The man obeyed, dropping it to the wet ground below. 

Oswald looked at him for a moment before deciding what he wanted, “Tell me your name.”

“Sam…” he said, breathless.

“Are you happy with your life, Sam?”

“No,” he answered.

“Do you want it to end?”

“...No.”

“Very well,” Oswald took a step closer, cradling the man’s face in the palm of his hand like a father would with a child. “You will not make a noise. You’ll feel like you're falling asleep and, when you wake up in the morning, you will assume you were drunk.”

Edward looked at him, puzzled. He’d expected something more… feral. He’d seen it often enough with the victims he brought to his apartment but this left him stunned. Oswald bit into him and, as instructed, Sam only let his jaw go slack and remained silent through the ordeal. His eyes rolled back and Oswald allowed him to fall limply to the ground.

He turned and wiped the stray droplets of blood away with the pad of his thumb. He smirked at Edward who stood there gawking at him, “Satisfied?”

“That was kind of you,” Ed said, “Letting him live and all that.”

“Well, if I always left a body then the police would get suspicious,” Oswald explained, “And I didn’t think it would be wise to leave one so close to your apartment where Galavan and his men could track us down.”

“I guess I have a lot to learn from you,” Ed smirked.

“You do,” Oswald stood on his tiptoes so he could reach the infuriatingly tall man’s mouth. He kissed him softly, turning his head to deepen it and allow the man a taste of the blood that still lingered on his tongue, “And if you tell anyone that I am occasionally kind, I will be forced to kill you.”

“Of course,” Edward smiled, “You have a reputation to maintain, after all.”

They returned to the apartment and Edward seemed lost in thought. He sat on the edge of the bed chewing at his nail bed and furrowing his brow. Oswald, who was growing irritated by the sound and getting a headache from Ed’s incessant leg bouncing, left his perch by the window.

“Unfortunately, reading minds is not something that I can do,” he tilted Edward’s chin so that he was looking at him, “If there is something plaguing that mind of yours, you’ll have to use your words.”

“You hypnotized that person just by looking at them. They hung on to your every word and followed every command,” he swallowed, “I’m curious how much of that was you and how much of that is simply because you are what you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… are vampires just naturally alluring or...?”   
  
Oswald laughed out loud at that, “Is that what I am? Alluring?”

“Yes,” Edward answered automatically.

“I… what?” he stared at him, “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t been serious,” he nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shied away from his stare. Oswald took a step closer and watched how the blush spread across his flesh— blossoming into beautifully intricate patterns.

“Does that scare you?” Oswald asked,

“No,” he swallowed and then tentatively reached out to touch Oswald’s cheek. Oswald’s expression remained impartial, causing Ed to frown, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No one has ever called me _ alluring _ before,” he smirked, his ears still ringing from the word.

“Other people are morons,” Ed growled, wrapping his arms around Oswald’s neck and pulling him into his orbit. Oswald fluttered his lashes at him and unbuttoned the man’s shirt.

“You’re a fool for letting me this close,” Oswald kissed his sternum, “Considering I could just choose to gobble you up.”

“I might let you.”

“Is that what you want?” he dragged his claws down his exposed ribs, “Crack open your chest,” he trailed his tongue down to the man’s navel, “Spread you open… eat you from the inside out.”

_ “Oh dear…”  _ Edward shuddered, bucking his hips slightly at the image it conjured.

“You seem confident in what it is that you want.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re forbidden fruit,” Ed mused, “You being a monster that could decide to eat me if I start to get irritating.”

“Give yourself more credit,” he kissed the corner of the man’s mouth. The mortal’s breath blew across his face, breathing life into his skin and lungs for the first time in a hundred years, “I don’t find you irritating.”

Edward kissed him more firmly then. Teasing the boundaries with his tongue in earnest. Oswald met him in kind and turned his head to get a better angle to deepen their kiss. He pressed the flat of his hand against Edward’s chest and allowed the drum he felt to ground him. His quickening pulse awakened all of Oswald’s cells.

“Will you turn me?” Edward asked sweetly against his lips.

“What?” Oswald pulled away suddenly and stared at him, “Edward, you don’t know what you are asking of me.”

“I do.”

“No! You do  _ not,” _ he shook his head, “I will not turn you. I’m sorry.”

“Then I’ll just go to Falcone,” he pouted.

“He would sooner  _ eat _ you than turn you!” Oswald yelled.

“Either outcome will be better than living as I am now,” Ed spat.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he stared, eyes red, “Oswald, I’ve wanted this since the moment I first heard about you. Please.”

Ah, of course. Oswald had been right. He  _ did  _ want something from him after all. “Edward… There is a likely possibility that you would just die. Not everyone survives the process. I don’t wish to put you through that kind of suffering.”

“I’m already suffering.”

“No. No no no, you do not know this kind of suffering,” he rolled his eyes at Edward’s dramatics, “Don’t be foolish.”

“Please,” he kissed him again, “Please… please…” he whimpered against Oswald’s flesh, “It has to be you, Oswald. Even if it kills me.”

“Why me?” he asked, desperately wanting to cry.

“I can’t explain it,” Ed said, “I look at you and I feel like I’ve always known you. Isn’t that strange?”

“Yes. It is,” Oswald frowned but, truthfully, he felt much the same sort of familiar pull from Edward. "Is this really what you want?"

“Yes.”

"I will have to be back to my full strength. The process will weaken us both," he moved a stray hair, "That will give you time to get your affairs in order."

"I don't really have any affairs," Ed said.

"No family?"

"None," he frowned, "I left them behind a long time ago."

"No friends? Colleagues?"

"No one who would care about me if I were suddenly gone."

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this!” he flailed. His eyes watered and he felt the need to tear something apart with his teeth, “You tricked me.”

“What? Tricked you?”

“YES!” he bellowed, “You  _ stabbed _ your way into my heart and you—” he stopped, steadying his breath with a slow exhale, “Nevermind. It’s late. You’re no doubt tired from doing  _ whatever _ it was you were doing before you came home.”

“Oswald, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Oswald huffed sharply through his nose, “Well, you  _ did.” _

“Let me make it up to you,” Edward grinned, pulling Oswald into another fervent kiss and rolling his hips, “You can have your fill of me in more ways than one.”

“You certainly have a silver tongue, don’t you?” Oswald smirked and then leaned in against his ear to whisper, “But I can sense the  _ poison _ hidden in your words.”

“You think I’m just lying to you to get what I want?” Ed frowned, his tone higher pitched and laced with offense. “Is it really so hard to believe that someone might actually love you?”

“No has ever loved me,” he said, “Not in a very long time.”

“Not since Farkas?” Ed glared.

“How do you know that name?” Oswald felt his chest rumble, the sharps ends of his teeth protruding past the fragile boundary of his lips.

“You say it in your sleep,” Ed told him, “And I can put two and two together.”

“You are treading on thin ice, Edward,” he clenched his fists.

“All I want is to be with you. That’s all,” he confessed, “I wanted a way to escape, but now it’s so much more than that. There’s a reason for all of this that I can’t put my finger on.”

“Like Fate?” he scoffed.

“Like Fate,” Ed nodded, “Trust me, I don’t like the idea of Fate anymore than you do. But  _ something _ drew us together.” he held Oswald close, “Please don’t push me away now that I’ve found you.”

Oswald peeled himself away from the bed and looked out towards the window. It would be another few hours before daylight, but Oswald couldn’t bear to force himself to stay awake a moment longer. He looked back at Edward who dared to stare at him so fondly with those haunting brown eyes. Oswald shook his head and headed towards the closet once more.

* * *

Oswald found himself trapped in a dream again. This time he was in a field. The sun warmed his skin as he looked up at the bluest sky he could ever recall seeing. Beside him was Farkas, humming a tune he’d written that morning. He’d told him that he was inspired by the color of Oswald’s eyes and had to convey how they made him feel in song because words failed him.

Farkas had always been a clever sort. He could make an instrument out of anything and delighted in wordplay and poetry. But his heart was best expressed through song.

His eyes fluttered open and Oswald could almost still hear that sweet music playing in the distance. He sat there for a moment, groggy and disoriented. His ears were ringing, but he could still hear the distinctive notes on the air. He held his breath as the song continued to play and he thought for a moment he’d gone insane and was hallucinating.

Standing, he made his way towards the door and pressed his ear against the wood. It was morning and Edward must have still been awake. Oswald could smell the remnants of the strawberries, oatmeal, and bacon he had for breakfast under the crack in the door. His ears perked up again when he heard Edward pluck a few more notes across the ivory keys of his piano.

It was the same song from his dream.

Without thinking, he threw open the door. His teeth were bared and he was too angry to notice the searing pain on his arm from the tiny beam of light.

“Oswald?” Edward ran towards him, shielding him from the sun.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Oswald dragged him into the closet and slammed him against the wall. He snarled, his teeth dripping in venom and claws digging into Edward’s shoulder where he had him pinned.

“Why were you playing that song?” he growled.

“What? OW!” Edward gasped at the pain, “I don’t know! It’s just one I’ve heard before, I guess.”

“That’s not possible!” He cried, slamming the man into the wall once more. “How do you know it?”

“I swear to you, Oswald… I was just playing a random tune. I don’t even know the words to it.”

Oswald searched his face. His heartbeat hadn’t changed when he gave his answer, revealing to the vampire that this human was telling the truth. Oswald could feel moisture on his face.

“Why do you remind me of him?” Oswald sobbed, "You have returned to me, haven't you?"

"I don't really believe in reincarnation," Ed frowned.

"Neither do I," he cradled Ed's face, "I always assumed that our souls dissolved when all was said and done. Rather… anticlimactic. Very sad and lonely at the bitter end…"

"And now?"

"Now…" he looked into Edward's eyes, "Now I am not so sure."

Edward wiped a tear from Oswald’s swollen eyes and smiled, “I cannot be bought but I can be stolen with one glance. Worthless to one, but priceless to two. What am I?” the riddle rolled off Ed’s tongue, the constants lilting in the space between them.

“You’re asking me a riddle?” Oswald chuckled, too tired and overwhelmed to feel anger any longer.

“I’m not very good at expressing how I feel,” he said, “But a good riddle reveals the asker. So, if you see me, you should be able to tell what it means. It’s like... music.”

“Music?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “A good song always has something revealed beneath the surface. Like the composer is putting a piece of themselves into it. Words are like individual notes. I string them all together and hope that someone can hear what I mean.”

They stood there in silence just staring at one another. Oswald’s claws were still buried into Edward’s arms and shoulders, but none of that seemed to matter. Edward shook his head.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I said all of that,” he chuckled nervously before turning his attention to the burn on Oswald’s arm, “Does that hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Oswald sniffled. He frowned at the claw marks left behind from their struggle and tried to soothe them by rubbing circles down his arms. His own injuries were fading into nothing.

“I’m sorry that I upset you earlier,” he said, “I can see how you might have thought I was just using you. But I promise I’m not.”

“I understand that now,” Oswald wiped his eyes, “Have you slept?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed with an amused snicker.

“Do you have work?”

“They can wait,” he pulled Oswald close, “I’m not going to be working there that much longer anyway.”

“Good,” Oswald kissed him, “Because now that I have you, I don’t want to let you go.”

* * *

Edward couldn’t breathe.

His lungs were failing him and, no matter how hard he tried to take a breath, he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs.

“It hurts,” he cried through clenched teeth. Oswald wrapped himself around him more firmly and held his shivering form close. He was drenched in sweat at this point, but his skin was cold. Oswald would miss the warmth in his cheeks and the smell of his blood coursing through him. But this was what Edward wanted.

“Hush now,” he kissed him on the crown of his head, “It will pass. Like a storm in the night, it will pass. I promise.”

It would take hours, Oswald knew that. He’d experienced it on his own. He remembered how much his mother struggled when she turned. His only hope was that, when Edward’s heart finally stopped, that he wouldn’t just give up. Edward was stubborn and had a compulsive need to finish tasks once he started them. Oswald was confident that, come nightfall, he would awaken to find Edward snuggled beside him. Content and breathing easily.

“Try not to think of the pain, Edward,” he brushed the tip of his nose against Edward’s temple, “Think of me. Of us.”

Edward’s expression softened. His eyes were clenched less tightly and Oswald could see his jaw unwind.

“Think of all those books you’ll have time to read now,” the vampire chuckled. He too was losing consciousness. The act of turning someone required them to drink from each other and Oswald had only just recently regained his vitality. The act of giving so much of himself to the man, his confidant and lover, left him feeling drunk.

Edward chuckled at that, “I will have all the time in the word, and I’ll still buy more before I finish the ones that I have.”

“But I’ll be there to read them with you,” he smirked, “And you can tell me riddles and sing your songs. I might even be convinced to play your games on occasion.”

“That sounds nice…” Edward’s voice was uncomfortably quiet, like he was fading off into some distant cloud. Melting into a void like a dreary shadow. Falling like rain on a grey morning.

When Oswald woke that evening, Edward was not beside him. Oswald tried to stifle his panic before going downstairs but an array of horrid scenarios played out in his mind. What if Edward had lied to him? What if he got what he wanted and now was gone? What if he never recovered and Oswald was going to find his corpse at the bottom of the stairs? What if…

Edward was staring out the window, his eyes alight and green. Like the aurora of the Northern lights. St. Elmo’s Fire.

“Edward?” Oswald called to him, hoping his voice would reach him in his state.

“It’s beautiful,” he mumbled, staring up at the moon, “The colors. They’re so...”

“Alive?”

“Yes,” he said, breathless. He pressed the palm of his hand against the glass of the window, frost splintering out in fractals from his cold touch, “It’s like I can see the atoms moving.”

“I’ve heard the sensation compared to psychedelics,” Oswald approached him, his nerves slowly settling, “Not positive if that is accurate.”

“It is,” Ed nodded.

“You would know?” Oswald smirked.

“This isn’t my first time trying to find an escape from life,” Edward chuckled, turning his back towards the window and giving Oswald his full attention.

“How does it compare?”

“This is…” Edward caressed his cheek, like he was documenting each freckle across his skin. Each line of filament in his pale irises. Each follicle of hair on his brow. “...exceptional.”

“We should get some food in you,” he poked Edward’s lips with the point of his finger, “We could go out and—”

“—I have a gift for you,” Ed interrupted, the words poured out of his mouth like honied poison in a trap.

“A gift?” Oswald furrowed his brow. When would he have had time to procure a gift?

“I wanted to wait until the right moment to give it to you,” he kissed Oswald’s knuckles and pulled him towards the hallway that led to the wine cellar.

Puzzling, Edward seemed very familiar with the layout of his home. He’d come by once or twice to fetch some of Oswald’s belongings, but he seemed to know every crack and squeaky floorboard like the back of his own hand. It left Oswald feeling unsettled.

Edward tugged at the cord overhead, causing the single bulb of incandescent light to sway in the air. In front of them was a man. He was bound and gagged not unlike Leonard the week prior. He appeared to be wearing an expensive suit with silver cufflinks and rather shiny shoes. 

“Tada!” Edward removed the mask over his victim’s face to reveal a very battered and bruised Theo Galavan. He glided behind him, placing his hands on Galavan’s shoulders. The man cried out from the pain of what appeared to be a broken clavicle, “I tracked him down and had him brought here.”

“How did you manage this?” Oswald beamed. Galavan’s eyes widened at the sight of the King of Gotham. He squirmed against his binding and, when he couldn’t move, started reciting something that sounded like a prayer behind the ball gag. How futile.

“You were right about those hunters,” Ed explained, “They wanted to make the score even after you spared them. And, after Galavan left them high and dry, they were willing to work with me on capturing him.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Oswald stared at him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward flipped open a switchblade, “I just thought you would enjoy sharing him. I know a few ways we could carve him open where he won’t die right away.”

Galavan’s eyes widened and Oswald couldn’t contain his laughter. Edward, giddy and still weak in his current state, laughed alongside him. 

They carved Theo open for hours, leaving his drained and mangled heart on the doorstep of the Order of Saint Dumas, baffling the local mortals and leaving his torturous end a mystery no one could solve.

Edward had climbed deep within him and coiled around his heart. And he remained there, just as Oswald was coiled around his.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Béla Kiss was a real person and he was never caught. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ Sweet dreams!


End file.
